


Heat Consumes

by commanderlurker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Cunnilingus, F/F, Original Mythology, Outdoor Sex, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderlurker/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: An adventurer is lost in the woods and knows her death is inevitable. The presence of a fire spirit to ease her passage to the other side is not a surprise, but the kiss is.
Relationships: Female Adventurer Lost in the Snow/Female Fire Spirit, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Heat Consumes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thereinafter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereinafter/gifts).



> For thereinafter, your prompt set my brain a buzzing.

With shaking hands and numb fingers she strikes her last match, cupping that precious light as she lowers her hand to the nest of wood shavings. Despite the cold and snow, the shavings catch. Then the twigs, sticks. She huddles around the fire, poking it, warming her stinging cold fingers. Tonight she will survive. Tomorrow she will find the river.

*

The sun sets on another too-short day. She followed deer tracks through the forest in vain; the river remained elusive, and so home remains just a dream. Now she prays to the spirits, striking steel to flint. Twice, three times. Four times. _Spark_.

Her stomach aches from hunger. She’s too far from safety and food is few and far between. Tomorrow. Tomorrow’s her last chance.

*

She trudges through knee deep snow. Darkness came hours ago but she continues, not knowing if she’s going in the right direction any more. If she ever was going in the right direction.

A laugh.

She looks around. No one’s here. Just her and the endless trees and cold, cold snow.

She trips, falls. Snow in her face, her mouth, freezing in her throat. With energy she didn’t know she had, she pushes herself up to kneeling. Blinks. The snow is so bright, so bright she has to shield her eyes.

“Hey, are you still here?”

Who said that? She forces her eyes to focus. The brightness stings but there’s a woman in front of her, bathed in gold and orange. “Who…?" A jolt of warmth flows down her spine. It stings, hot after being so cold for so long.

The woman shimmers into focus, naked, kneeling. The snow melts around her. “I’ve been following you, doing what I can. But there’s not much more I can do.” She pushes back the adventurer’s hood. “There’s no easy way to say this, but you’re not coming out of this forest.”

“Can you help me?” Her teeth have stopped chattering. “What direction do I head?”

“I’m no good with directions. Just fire.” The woman cups her hands and blows. Sparks fly, dancing in the dark.

“You’re a spirit!” She believes in the fire spirits. Of course she does. Everyone believes in them. But that means… "Are you going to walk me to the other side?" She looks around like the other side is just here, behind a tree.

"Ah, no, I'm afraid there is no other side."

“What?” There must be! The priests, the tales--the other side is where you go when you die. And she is dying. Tears well in her eyes. She blinks them away, hot tears refusing to freeze.

A hand on her shoulder, warm through all her layers. "Only people like us know the truth, and that’s better, in a way. A secret that only the dead know.” The spirit lifts her without seeming to move. “Come on. Let’s warm you up."

The spirit leads the way, melting snow in her wake, a beacon in the darkness.

She follows, though not without fear. Not fear of death. In truth she knew that today would likely be her last. She'd gone too long without food, and snow could only quench the ache in her stomach briefly. No, she feared the unknown. If there was no other side, then what is there? Fire spirits held the promise of another life beyond death, but this spirit, so lively, so merry, told her she was dying.

They walk into a clearing. In spring, this will be a meadow, a riot of colour as flowers bloom, woken from their winter slumber. But she won’t live to see this spring.

The spirit turns, holds out her hands. Her smile reaches her eyes, genuine, joyful, teasing. The adventurer walks into her waiting arms, expecting this embrace to be her death. The spirit is solid, comforting, a warm blanket on a cold night.

Not death, but a kiss. Tender as a sunrise. Surprise makes her freeze, and sweet solace breaks the spell. She kisses back, hugging the spirit tighter. She pulls away only to tug at her gloves so she can feel the spirit’s body with her bare hands. Fingertips explore, finding valleys between the spirit’s shoulder blades and breasts, ridges along her collarbone and hips. Her lips follow a straight line south, pausing to dip her tongue into the crater of the spirit’s navel before resuming her expedition.

Through a forest of golden curls, the adventurer finds the river she had been searching for. Fingers part folds, lips kiss, tongue laps. Heat bursts from the spirit, warmer than any woman the adventurer has ever known. She pulls the spirit closer, burying her face, nosing curls and sinking tongue.

_She’s alive._

The spirit’s fingers delve through the adventurer’s hair, sending tingles rippling over her skin. The spirit crackles like a fire, sparks pinging into the dark, _tss_ -ing as they sizzle on snow. Her body shakes and the adventurer holds on, not stopping until the spirit relaxes, settled embers all aglow.

She looks up, face wet, and meets the spirit’s joyful gaze. Waves of heat still radiate from the spirit’s body. She starts to sweat.

The spirit’s thumbs caress her cheeks, her chin and bottom lip. “I knew you’d understand,” the spirit says. “You’re ready now.”

Ready for death. She peels off her coat and doesn’t shiver. Lays it on the ground. She’s slept on cruder beds. With the spirit’s help, she unlaces her boots, unbuttons all her clothes, peels them off, and they’re lying on the coat together like it’s the Queen’s bed and they’re lovers in a castle, not facing their last in the middle of a cold, dark forest.

Hands like kisses touch her body, dance over her skin, curl around her legs, feet, knees. Her shoulders, arms, elbows, wrists. They hold her, all of her, somehow, a tender embrace growing stronger, urgent. Her body tingles, throbs. Light consumes her, warm, warmer than she's been since she started her trek. Like the languid heat of a long summer day. Time slows. Heat pools in her cunt, her nipples tight from pleasure, not cold. The spirit laps between her legs, her tongue a heat she's never known, burning bright. Her breath carries the heat of a fire. The heat curls inside her caressing, teasing, beckoning her to find her release.

Pleasure blooms all over, like a warm spring shower. Light and refreshing, budding and blooming flowers. Brighter, lighter until all she is, is light. White, sharp light. The forest is still there, dark and cold. And her clothes still lie on the snow. She turns her hands. They're golden. Her body, bright gold. Supine before, now she stands in the snow, feet sinking as the snow melts.

“You're a spirit now. Like me. Us.”

She looks around. Pinpricks of light peek behind the trees. Laughter, joyous and free. The lights float and zip away, fire spirits of the forest.

“Why would they hide this?” she murmurs.

“The priests are scared of us,” her spirit says. “Can you blame them?” Her spirit kisses her nose. “You’ll never be cold again.”

“But in the summer?” In the summer, when the heat lays heavy over the land, causing human and animal alike to seek shade, and water to quench their thirst.

“Our mother sun burns brightest of all. We find our rest then.” Her spirit holds out her hand. “I’ve got so much to show you, I can’t wait. Your life has just begun!"

She has so many more questions, but all she can do right now is laugh. She’s a fire spirit, a guardian not of the other side, but this world, her world. She has died, but she lives. She takes her spirit’s hand. Together they dance into the darkness, lighting the forest.

Behind, in the clearing, a fox slinks towards the adventurer’s clothes. She sniffs, assesses, takes the bundle in her teeth and drags them to her den. Her own warmth, and come spring, bedding for her young.


End file.
